


hat-trick

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Series: NHL verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Captain kink, Figure Skater Kyungsoo, Fluff, Humor, M/M, NHL Player Jongin, Rimming, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: captain jongin kim promises he’s good for more than just a one-timer. kyungsoo talks about his hockey crushes and, surprisingly, jongin is not one of them.





	hat-trick

**Author's Note:**

> this went from "there are lots of condoms at the olympics and kaisoo get creative" to "I WRITE WHAT I WANT INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO KYUNGSOO TALKING ABOUT HIS NHL CRUSHES AND HENRIK LUNDQVIST BEING A RUNNING GAG"
> 
> please don't sue me i don't know anyone here
> 
> UNBETA-ED because i still have a pol sci paper to write lmao

they’re given a pack of condoms—37 tiny squares in a thin cardboard box that screams olympic debauchery. apparently, pyeongchang has gone all out for this year’s games and that’s not talking about the stadiums and the rinks. there is even the olympic logo printed neatly on the box.

 

he stands in front of the bed and eyes the contents of the bag on top of the white sheets. he wonders if there are sex toys included—maybe if he searches for them hard enough. there are hygiene kits but the condoms really take the cake, the icing, and the entire birthday party. 

 

_thirty-fucking-seven._

 

jongin has no idea if he can finish them in the entire olympic run.

 

“getting ideas, captain?” chanyeol drawls. 

 

the taller male is lounging on his bed. his own bag is already rifled through and the condoms are strewn on the bedside table. this is chanyeol’s second time in the olympics, like jongin. last time, the older goalie is on reserve. this year, chanyeol park takes over pricey’s goal posts as the first pick.

 

“not really,” jongin shrugs, lying through his teeth. 

 

chanyeol laughs a little. “fucking liar, man.” he rolls over to his side and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “everyone knows olympic games get dicks extra harder. and pyeongchang really went all out. i’m proud to be of korean descent.”

 

jongin snorts to himself before he replaces the condom pack inside the bag. it’s like an nc-17 welcoming present. he pushes it on top of the table before he plops down on the bed, uncaring that he’s messing it up.

 

“we’re here for sports, chanyeol.”

 

chanyeol shrugs again, rolling on to his back and gazing at the ceiling. there’s a smirk playing on his lips.

 

“relax, captain serious. it’s olympic tradition to fuck. you won’t know this because you have a boyfriend last time in sochi—big mistake, by the way—but this time, you’ll know what i’m talking about. those extra energy gotta go somewhere, yeah?”

 

jongin raises an eyebrow but he nods. it’s not like chanyeol’s lying. the olympics is where everyone who’s anyone in their whole sport comes together. and that means athletic people with too much pressure and nerves needing some release.

 

chanyeol is right but jongin wonders how these people can get it up when he’s trembling with nerves at the thought of wearing the Maple Leaf on his jersey. he’s no stranger to high stake games—he’s won the cup and the worlds gold—but the olympics is the olympics.

 

and considering the fact that jongin will wear that big fat C on his shoulder, he doubts he can even hook up with someone—much less flirt with them enough.

 

_famous last words,_ jongin will think eventually.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin can’t come to the opening ceremony. the nhl is a bitch and he has to play the ducks a whole day before he has to fly half way across the world to represent his flag and his country. canada gets a free pass in hockey because it’s canada and they’re automatically qualified because _duh._

 

team canada gets some scheduled ice time as their coach drills them together, putting a bunch of players who, more often than not, plays for opposing teams. captain jongin kim of the montreal canadiens exchanges a particularly spirited fist bump with his teammate, JD, a pesky little right wing for the boston bruins on a regular nhl day. 

 

it’s all good, really. rivalries on the nhl rinks don’t make it to the olympic ice. in fact, it’s the partnerships on nhl teams that make the olympics even more heartbreaking that it already is. nothing hurts worse than defeating someone you’ve won a cup with. jongin can testify to that when he pulls the chin strap and hugs his habs teammate on the handshake line after bumping the dude down to bronze in sochi.

 

they’re in group A this time with sweden, latvia, and the czech republic. jongin tallies zero goals on their first game against the tre kronor but he does make up for it by assists and passes. the important thing is winning and hockey is a team sport anyway. at the end of the day, the maple leaf on his jersey is more important than the _kim 88_. 

 

he gives chanyeol a hug after that last shift. the man deserves it after pulling stops after stops against the opposing team. jongin is about to skate out of the gate when he hears someone holler from above.

 

“kim!” 

 

he looks up around the stadium and jongin zeroes in on the man waving from the athletes’ seats. jongin squints and he first sees the glaring USA track suit—horrible, really—before he breaks out into a large grin.

 

he skates to the side so he’s closer to the group of players, most of them from team USA and with familiar faces.

 

“yo, B!" he waves back.

 

baekhyun, a habs teammate but an enemy in country, whistles. “good game. can’t wait to face you on the dot.”

 

jongin smirks back and feels the tension from the last game bleeding out of him. he likes the atmosphere of the olympics post-game—it’s easy. they all know how to deal with a loss and a victory.

 

“you know i have better face off percentages than you.” jongin leans against the board as baekhyun stands up, shaking his fists in a playful manner. just then, jongin notices a smaller guy beside B. the stranger ducks from baekhyun’s wild gestures and the captain squints again. the man is wearing the south korean tracksuit and jongin is sure as fuck he's not some hockey player.

 

for one, he’s never met the guy before. two, he’s tiny as hell. he looks like jongin can snap him into two.

 

he’s hot though—a big part of jongin’s post-adrenaline brain adds. he guesses the person is still hot without the high of victory and he delights at that fact.

 

jongin can see a bright red beanie perched on the male’s head and there’s a fluffy white pompom on top. he’s all wide eyes and thick dick-sucking lips. the track jacket he’s wearing is loose but he has to be an athlete to be seated with a bunch of players from team USA, so jongin thinks he’s fit—in a lithe sort of way. maybe a speed skater or a figure skater. the ones who need to be quick and graceful, unlike the brutal fast paced sport that jongin lives.

 

baekhyun must have noticed the way his eyes slide and pin to the male beside him and his older teammate smirks at him. jongin knows that baekhyun knows how he likes his men—small and pliant, cute.

 

“let’s grab a meal, yeah?” baekhyun drawls out. he wraps his hand around the stranger’s elbow and jongin finds himself tracing the movement and then the way baekhyun’s fingers plant themselves over the man’s track jacket.

 

“sure,” jongin nods. “see you in an hour?”

 

baekhyun nods and jongin skates away. before he gets into the tunnel, he sneaks a glance at the stranger and finds him with his back turned.

 

he licks his lips—the man has thick thighs and a thicker ass.

 

jongin’s mind immediately flies to the 37 condoms the olympic committee has kindly provided them. if he plays his cards good, he might put them to good use. if he plays his cards best, he might even need a whole new stash.

 

he taps the end of his hockey stick against his thigh.

 

good thing the stranger is also an athlete—

 

that means 74 condoms between the two of them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

chanyeol eyes him weirdly when jongin finally rushes out of the training room after cool down and a thirty minute heated rant from their coach. before he manages to get out of their area with his hockey bag, the goalie has gripped the hem of his parka and has pulled him backwards.

 

“loey! what the hell?” jongin scowls down. 

 

chanyeol stares at jongin and his eyes travel up and down. he even sniffs the air before he smirks. “dick appointment?” the older male pauses. “pussy appointment? i never know with you.”

 

jongin flushes at that. “w-what—”

 

“don’t even lie, captain,” the goalie tuts at him. “your hair is pushed back and you’re wearing perfume.”

 

jongin sighs and he looks around. he kind of feels irresponsible for doing this. they’re not even out of the group qualifiers yet.

 

“who is it?" chanyeol leans in. it’s not like it’s a secret but jongin has a firm rule in the locker room to never talk out loud about his sex partners. 

 

“some stranger with B,” he answers.

 

chanyeol raises an eyebrow before he looks contemplative. “short and cute with a fat ass?”

 

jongin is taken aback for a moment before he nods. “yeah.”

 

the goalie tips his chin to the door. “well, go get your dick wet, captain.”

 

jongin shoves his hockey bag to chanyeol with a stern _bring them to our room_ before he gets out of there. the last time he hears is the ringing laughter and the barely there _fuck you_ from chanyeol’s wheezing as he pulls his beanie over his totally not styled hair.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin gets an imessage with baekhyun just as he’s walking outside of the stadium. he slips his phone out of his pocket to check the text and he finds himself smiling slightly at what's displayed on his screen. his older teammate has sent him a photo of himself smiling with the stranger tucked to his side. the smaller man beside baekhyun has a small grin and his round cheeks are flushed—from the cold, from shyness, jongin has no idea but he’ll gladly ask once they meet.

 

there’s a text too about where they are and jongin knows the restaurant where they will be meeting. it’s just around the stadium and he thanks the hockey gods for baekhyun’s foresight as jongin walks quickly to where they are. he’s stopped twice—by a pair of curlers for a photo and by a group of tourists for direction to, ironically, the hockey stadium.

 

when he gets to the restaurant, jongin admires the quaint set up before he rushes inside. the cold is starting to creep underneath his layers and the moment he swings the door open, the smell of traditional korean food assaults his senses. it smells like sundays in detroit when he’s still living with his family before he has to billet. his mom likes having korean sundays and jongin’s korean may be abysmal at best but he can pronounce his food right.

 

several people turn their heads to his direction and he ducks his chin down, pulling his beanie off of his head. he fixes his hair a little bit before he shrugs off his thick parka. the small restaurant is toasty and warm and jongin may or may not have thought of the tight as fuck sweater he’s wearing underneath.

 

“jongin! over here!” he hears someone call his name and, sure enough, B is sitting with the cute stranger on a booth tucked into the corner of the place. jongin jogs to their table and the smell of tea wafts with the steam when he stands by their side.

 

“hey, B,” he greets before he scoots beside his teammate. the stranger is sitting in front of him and jongin grins at the male before he reaches over the table, palms splayed and open.

 

“i’m jongin kim,” he says.

 

“um—kyungsoo. kyungsoo do.” the man visibly gulps and jongin tries not to break in to a stupid grin. kyungsoo—even his name sounds as cute as he is. he has a slight accent too—his consonants curling into familiar sounds that remind jongin of home. his parents speak english the same way, if not with heavier inflections.

 

“what sport?” jongin asks. 

 

“figure skating,” kyungsoo answers softly. everything about this man seems so restrained—so soft and bottled up. jongin wonders what it feels like for kyungsoo to let go himself, to let loose.

 

“nice,” jongin says. before he can ask another question, an elderly woman comes up to them, speaking korean and handing them the menu.

 

“she’s asking for our order,” kyungsoo dictates. “and if you want the complementary tea, jongin.”

 

jongin nods a yes and kyungsoo relays it to the _ahjumma_. jongin and baekhyun do not understand or speak korean enough to know what’s written on the page but most of them look familiar anyway. jongin picks beef stew—a best seller, apparently—with a warm cup of wild rice and two side dishes of kimchi and potato pancakes. baekhyun orders kimchi stew with sour dough bread and kyungsoo settles for a fusion dish that jongin has no hope of understanding.

 

kyungsoo expertly tells the woman their orders and jongin is self-aware enough, and shameless enough, to admit that the smaller man’s deep voice is doing it for him.

 

when the old woman leaves, the first thing that comes out of baekhyun’s mouth is—“kyungsoo is a big hockey fan, jongin.”

 

jongin’s eyebrow lifts at that—his eyebrow always does. it has its own life and personality.

 

“really?” he leans in. he hasn’t spared baekhyun a glance. he sees the older male most days of the year anyway, in and out of the ice rink. 

 

kyungsoo visibly flushes and jongin thinks that the color is very attractive on the older male. the red on the round apples of kyungsoo’s face is prettier especially when the figure skater ducks his head down, lashes fluttering against his soft looking skin.

 

_fuck. he really is jongin’s type._

 

“really!” baekhyun enthuses. kyungsoo elbows B right then and jongin chuckles under his breath when the man shoots baekhyun a sharp look. 

 

“i’m more of a—” kyungsoo pauses at this as he fiddles with his fingers on top of the table. jongin can’t help but notice how severely bitten his nails are. the figure skater waves his hand in a nonchalant gesture. “—a casual hockey fan. i like watching the games.”

 

jongin laughs shortly at that. “there are no casual fans in hockey—or sports, in general.”

 

kyungsoo’s wide eyes go even wider at that. he breaks out into a shy round of giggles before he adds, “i was trying to spare you the heartbreak.” he shakes his head and dips his chin downwards, his head tilted a little bit to the right. “i’m a pens fan.”

 

“the pens?!” jongin pretends the exaggerated shock and offense. he places his hand on his chest as if he’s scandalized and kyungsoo laughs again. 

 

“don’t tell me you think sidney crosby is hot?” _never it be said that jongin kim is not a fisher_.

 

“don’t you?”

 

jongin laughs lowly but he stares at the the curves of kyungsoo’s lips and replies, “i think i like my men skating for a different sport than mine.”

 

“me too.” kyungsoo shoots him a _look_ at that and says with a lilt, with something playful, “i do like that C on crosby’s shoulder.”

 

jongin feels the conscious tug on his insides. kyungsoo’s eyes drift to his shoulders before they trace down jongin’s arms. jongin knows—in fact, he has meant it to—that the way he is resting his forearms on top of the table makes all the muscles pop underneath and against his sweater.

 

so that’s how it is.

 

he smirks, “so you like your hockey captains.” jongin tilts his head to side and pokes his tongue out. he does not miss the way kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “i could introduce you to sid. he’s a good guy—funny and a little weird.”

 

kyungsoo looks surprised when jongin says that and all traces of flirtation bleeds out of him, quickly being replaced by shyness once again. jongin is intrigued. this man seems like he’s about to match jongin blow by blow (heh) but instead, when jongin is about to play the same game, suddenly, they’re not even part of the same league.

 

“not all captains,” kyungsoo murmurs. jongin bites his lower lip when kyungsoo’s pink tongue slips out of his plush lip, tracing the curve of his fat bottom lip.

 

“so just some.” jongin leans in once more, interested. 

 

from their proximity and the warmth of the restaurant, kyungsoo’s perfume wafts in the air. he smells like flowers—sweet and beautiful and intoxicating.

 

“like?” jongin prompts. something like disappointment bubbles inside him. he can’t even ogle kyungsoo’s figure skating frame. he hasn’t dated figure skaters but he has _seen_ them.

 

“olympic captains,” kyungsoo mutters demurely. how one can be demure as they look up from underneath their thick lashes with twinkling irises that speak of promises of excessive condom usage, jongin doesn’t know. “current olympic captains.”

 

he isn’t complaining though.

 

“oh?” jongin decides to tease the male some more. “maybe ovechkin? i’m pretty tight with one of the guys from his team. i can hook you two up—in a friendly way, of course. alex is a married man after all.”

 

kyungsoo flushes at that and he shakes his head once again. his lips form a heart shape and jongin slowly finds himself having a hard time looking away.

 

“not ovie—” he pauses. “maybe next time. i wouldn’t pass meeting him up but…” kyungsoo trails off and he finds the smile on jongin’s face—the one that he has put there. 

 

there’s a slight pout on his face when he says, “stop teasing me.”

 

his mouth curls into it like he’s born for that look and jongin doesn’t know which head he’s using to think right now. jongin covers up a cough by laughing.

 

“sorry,” he rushes out. “i didn’t mean to—tease you— _that way_.” he drums his fingers on the table before he leans back with a crooked smile, inviting and _teasing._

 

before he can answer, however, the old woman from before walks up to their table to place their orders in front of them.

 

jongin’s glance drifts to baekhyun and his older teammate smirks at him before winking. 

 

_damn it—he forgot all about B._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo skips to the bathroom after jongin gives a couple of korean won for their bill. baekhyun has a shit eating grin on his already shit eating face. 

 

“so…” he drawls out. “captain _‘rank number one on buzzfeed’s 26 hockey players who are hot as puck’_ , i heard you weren’t planning on hooking up with anyone this olympics.”

 

jongin raises his an eyebrow at that. he knows baekhyun and chanyeol talk—the two of them being the biggest gossip mongers in the whole goddamn nhl. 

 

he doesn’t answer and B seems to take it as an invitation to continue.

 

“what happened to your vow of olympic celibacy?”

 

jongin stands up and he shoots B a smirk. “he went to the bathroom.”

 

he looks back to see baekhyun narrowing his eyes at him and jongin cannot help it, he gives the man a wink before throwing his head back to chuckle under his breath.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin catches kyungsoo just as he's coming out of the washroom. the man looks surprised to see jongin in the narrow hallway and jongin makes sure to loom over kyungsoo, filling up the entire space. he’s been told that he has a large presence.

 

“jongin, hi,” kyungsoo says. “um—do you need anything?”

 

the thing about kyungsoo’s face is that it betrays what he’s saying. he sounds so nonchalant and uncaring but his face—the blush on his cheeks and the wideness of his eyes alongside the bob of his adam’s apple—says otherwise.

 

“not much," jongin shrugs. “i just wanna talk to you.”

 

he looks behind him and finds no one. jongin takes a step forward once and kyungsoo takes another back. he looks nervous, but also—anticipatory. jongin is familiar with the expression. most people do when faced with jongin kim. whether it be the club for hookups, or the ice rink when he's about to bury the puck top shelf or after a one timer or, better yet, during a clutch shoot out. fleury has jokingly told him about the nightmares jongin has given the older man.

 

“about what?” kyungsoo asks then. he looks up at jongin and then, at jongin’s lips. he licks his own bottom lip and jongin mimics the action, making sure that he does not break eye contact. the first rule of flirting is to look at the other person in the eye.

 

“are you free later? there’s a bar we can hit up.” jongin lifts one eyebrow. “i haven’t had a soju bomb in years.”

 

the first rule of olympic flirting, however, is to just go for it.

 

kyungsoo tilts his head back and he cocks his hips. he rests his hand on the dip of his waist and jongin runs his eyes up and down kyungsoo’s figure before he hums appreciatively. kyungsoo is nothing short of _hot as fuck_.

 

his ass swells from under the tight confines of his athletic gear and his small waist creates an illusion that his hips flare out widely. jongin takes another step and his right hand hover above kyungsoo’s bottom.

 

the figure skater does not stiffen but instead, he takes a step back—

 

right into jongin’s waiting palm.

 

jongin’s eyes go big, just a little bit, before he smiles. predatory and thankful. he cups one large palm on one of kyungsoo’s ass cheeks before he gives the flesh a firm squeeze. the man moans and jongin takes a step forward. he crowds kyungsoo against the wall without much care if anyone walks in on them.

 

it _is_ the olympics. the only reaction he’ll get from anyone is a raised eyebrow and a slap from the back. it’s not like jongin’s not the poster boy bisexual of the national hockey league or, really, the poster boy of north american lgbt+ athletes. 

 

he’s pretty sure doing a _you can play_ ad alongside that video of him in the gray lululemon sweatpants he owns will do that to a person—not to mention the fact that he’s loud in his advocacy—not in monetary, he keeps that under wraps, but in support and solidarity.

 

jongin is out _and_ proud.

 

kyungsoo looks a little more nervous though so he makes sure that the other male is covered properly. from what he knows, most figure skaters keep to themselves, priding on their grace and beauty. 

 

there’s nothing graceful about being caught outside the bathroom with captain jongin kim’s hand on your ass.

 

jongin leans forward and his lips brush against the shell of kyungsoo’s ear. 

 

“i’m not getting you wrong, am i?”

 

against him, he feels kyungsoo shiver. jongin feels it too, the zap of electricity running from the top of his spine down to the last knob.

 

“you’re not,” kyungsoo answers. his deep voice sounds like it holds a million and one promises. “you’re getting this right, jongin.”

 

jongin laughs and he traces his nose against the juncture where kyungsoo’s earlobe meets his strong jawline.

 

“thank god,” he says. “i would really hate it if i couldn’t fuck you before the closing ceremony.”

 

kyungsoo’s right hand rests on jongin’s chest and the man pushes him away, just slightly. 

 

“who says anything about fucking?” kyungsoo tilts his head. 

 

jongin’s lips lift up on one side. “so i don’t get to fuck you?”

 

“not until we both have a medal, captain.”

 

jongin shivers from the tone and the way kyungsoo’s fingers run down from his pecs to his abs. his hand rests there and jongin, out of instinct, digs his blunt nails into kyungsoo’s ass, over his _extremely distracting nike leggings._

 

“yeah?” he says hoarsely. “you think we can finish 37 condoms by then?”

 

“74—we’re both athletes.” kyungsoo laughs. “and slow down, daddy-o. i don’t have sex until after the competition.”

 

jongin smirks then. if there is anything he knows how—it’s to play a game. “define sex.”

 

“penetration.” kyungsoo shrugs. he’s red in the face despite the straight up filth threatening to spew out of his lips. 

 

“hmm,” jongin hums thoughtfully. “i guess i just have to get creative before we both get on that podium then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin gets back to his shared bedroom with light steps and an extra phone number on his contacts. 

 

chanyeol gets one look at him and says bluntly, “i could spare you some extra condoms if you want.”

 

the captain laughs out loud but he does throw his beanie towards chanyeol park’s smug face. “no need—he’s an athlete, too.”

 

loey whistles. “74 condoms in total.” the taller male makes a face. “i hope your dick doesn’t fall off before we go back to the nhl.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

canada is seeded third so jongin can sit pretty when they’re not in training. he’s done his google search of anything and everything do kyungsoo, avoiding the trashier online gossip rags and sticking to the paragon of internet knowledge that is wikipedia. he’s a little surprised to find out that the figure skater is older than him by a year.

 

jongin has also figured out the figure skating schedules, mentally mapping out how they line up against hos. he wakes up extra early to text kyungsoo on the day of his short program and thanks the fact that he can at least watch the older man.

 

_good luck on your SP, baby_

 

he gets a wide-eyed blushing emoji as a reply and nothing more. jongin lets kyungsoo be, fully aware of athletes and their various idiosyncrasies. he breezes through the morning with his workout and a couple of drills administered by their coach and the assistants. jongin gets a massage before he finally—finally—heads out to watch the men’s figure skating.

 

he slips inside the stadium with a flash of his ID and he’s ushered by one of the volunteers to the athletes’ section. there aren’t much of them there and jongin doesn’t see baekhyun (who, apparently, is kyungsoo’s best friend—having known of the hockey player for almost a decade) but that’s understandable since USA has a game with the Czechs in an hour. jongin is supposed to slip inside to watch them but he bails out to watch kyungsoo perform his short program instead. 

 

sid would have skinned him alive if he was here and not stewing with a major injury. tazer is his A but he is older and the blackhawks captain has given him a free pass but not without an intimidating stare.

 

when jongin settles close to the front row, he feels various cameras snap at his face. he consciously picks at his nape, rubbing the rapidly warming skin there. one thing he’ll never get used to in south korea is that everyone seems to be proud of jongin kim, regardless of the fact that he can’t even speak one lick of korean. 

 

in canada, jongin’s more of a local montreal hero after the cup and the public enemy number one everywhere else. in his home country, he’s called king jongin, edging out queen yuna as the representative athlete. 

 

he can already imagine the headlines—this is the first time he’s appeared on a figure skating game. last time in sochi, jongin has opted to watch hockey or, sometimes, curling. the media, after jongin’s coming out, is hellbent on linking him to anyone who so much as _breathes_.

 

he tries to ignore the stares and the pointed murmurs. jongin really has no interest in figure skating, finding it exciting but knowing that he’s only waiting for one person anyway. he follows kyungsoo’s half dead instagram while waiting and jongin figures it’s going to give the media something to talk about.

 

he switches apps and scrolls through twitter, checking the USA-Czechs game. it’s still a stalemate and jongin perks up when kyungsoo’s name is announced to be one of the next skaters. he peers out into the side of the rink and finds kyungsoo doing some stretches as the canadian figure skater finishes up his performance on ice.

 

jongin holds his breath when kyungsoo steps in the rink. he does a couple of laps and jongin’s eyes are glued on kyungsoo’s costume.

 

he’s wearing all black but what catches jongin’s attention is the way the back of the top half is opened, completely bare and displaying the dip of kyungsoo’s spine. jongin is too far away but he can imagine the way the top knobs of the figure skater’s spine would have pressed through the pale skin. 

 

it dips down a little above the curve of kyungsoo’s plump buttocks and the trim of the costume sparkles with crystals sewn on to the fabric. when kyungsoo turns around, jongin holds his breath. kyungsoo looks sultry and seductive with his eye makeup, making his large eyes appear muted and inviting. his hair is pushed completely back and the front of the costume is all enticing and temptation materialized into a piece of clothing.

 

jongin releases the air he’s holding and leans forward.

 

kyungsoo does a few laps and he shakes his hands as if he’s shaking the nerves that come with it. jongin fists the material of his pants, wiping down the sweat on his palms.

 

the figure skater takes position on the center ice—head bowed down and arms askew. it looks very graceful to jongin’s uncultured ass.

 

when the music starts playing, jongin feels nervous as kyungsoo glides and dances and owns the ice. the older man executes his jumps—jongin has searched for the terms but he has no idea which ones are kyungsoo doing. 

 

the music lulls into a softer melody halfway and kyungsoo skates inwards, outwards. he bends himself and spins around. it reminds jongin of female figure skaters though he has forgotten what the move is called. distinctly, he recalls one article pointing out how kyungsoo and that japanese figure skater who’s also a favorite for gold to be the ones most famous for doing the move.

 

as the sound picks up, so does kyungsoo. he takes another jump and lands perfectly without a wobble. his arms are stretched outwards as the music slowly dies. jongin cannot take his eyes from the spectacle—kyungsoo’s movements and his facial expressions. 

 

he dances on ice with his entire soul.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo ends up being placed second right behind the japanese skater and jongin only knows that in the middle of watching hockey with his teammates. he shoots kyungsoo a text congratulating him and an invitation for dinner.

 

his phone pings with a reply right as baekhyun collides against the boards and jongin fishes out the device from his pockets. chanyeol shoots him a suggestive smirk and jongin mouths a quick _fuck you_ before unlocking the screen.

 

there’s a simple message from kyungsoo— _okay. pick me up at 7?_

 

jongin grins as he types his own _okay_. he’d be stupid not to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

they’re in the middle of dinner from the same restaurant as before and kyungsoo is definitely making jongin laugh. it’s not hard to, especially when kyungsoo is so animated in conversation. the small male talks with his whole face and his whole body, open and inviting in a manner that makes jongin feel warm.

 

“i’m telling you—” kyungsoo says, loose and giggly from their topic and the _makgeolli._ “—that henrik lundqvist is the hottest player in the nhl right now.”

 

“he’s married,” the captain replies flatly.

 

kyungsoo attempts to wink but he only manages to appear like he has blinked out of sync. teasingly, he drawls out, “not in my fantasies. he’s not.”

 

jongin snorts at that. “lundqvist is overrated.” 

 

he won’t say he’s offended. he’s not that type of person. no. not really—

 

_but_ does kyungsoo really think lundqvist, that old man whom jongin has scored 4 goals that one time in new york last season, is the hottest in the nhl?

 

“jealous?” kyungsoo playfully asks as he spoons the vegan kimchi fried rice into his mouth. apparently, it’s made with wild rice. 

 

“i’m not!” jongin defends. “i’m just saying there are tons of guys in the league _way_ hotter than lundqvist.”

 

kyungsoo hums before he nods and cheekily adds, “well, jonathan toews is really hot.”

 

jongin cringes at that. tazer is his olympic teammate—not to mention his A! and he’s definitely not hot—not with that blank stare and the receding hairline.

 

“he’s kind of bald,” jongin deadpans.

 

kyungsoo snorts before he breaks into a fresh round of giggles. “he isn’t!” he shakes his head and ducks his head down, eyes in crescents and lips in a heart. “his hair is just going through a rough patch.”

 

“his hair has a patch, alright.” jongin jokes, mentally sending an apology to tazer for throwing him under the bus _and_ personally running him over. 

 

“toews is definitely a looker,” kyungsoo insists. “have you seen his abs?”

 

“please,” jongin huffs. he stabs the piece of steak and shoves it inside his mouth. “he owns a garden, kyungsoo!”

 

“well!” kyungsoo says through his helpless chuckles. jongin is trying hard to contain his too. he can’t believe his talking to kyungsoo about this.

 

“you’re talking about your nhl crushes in front of your date and he’s not one of them?” jongin teases suddenly.

 

kyungsoo freezes up mid-laughter before a slow smile takes over his round face. “since when is this a date?”

 

“the moment you say it is.” jongin tilts his head to the side in challenge, anticipating the other’s response.

 

kyungsoo visibly gulps before he murmurs, “well, my date isn’t one of those nhl celebrity crushes.”

 

jongin chuckles. “really?” 

 

he brushes hair out of his forehead and runs his fingers through the strands. he watches kyungsoo watch the entire thing with an athlete’s focus.

 

the other man takes a deep breath and he’s biting his bottom lip. 

 

“okay. let’s play a game.”

 

jongin raises his eyebrows at the non sequitur and nods for kyungsoo to go on.

 

“we’ll say an nhl player’s name and we have to, like—uh—say if we pass or…” kyungsoo trails off. his eyebrows crease cutely as kyungsoo obviously tries to think of something witty.

 

“one-timer?” jongin suggests lightly.

 

kyungsoo perks up and laughs at that. “yes. pass or one-timer.” he wiggles in his seat and takes a drink of his sweet rice wine before he wiggles his brows, saying, “jaromir jagr.”

 

jongin huffs in disbelief. “he’s old enough to be your dad.”

 

kyungsoo smirks and teases, “some people are into that.”

 

the captain squints. “are you?”

 

kyungsoo grins but answers, “no. not really—so pass.”

 

jongin shrugs, “it’s a pass for me too.” he pauses and tries to think of someone else that, hopefully, won’t be too blasphemous. “alexander ovechkin.”

 

kyungsoo titters at that. “definitely a one-timer.”

 

“seriously?” jongin asks, incredulous. “it’s a pass for me. he’s missing one tooth!”

 

“he’s not missing a dick, is he?”

 

kyungsoo shrugs carelessly as he pushes his half-finished plate away. he pulls the glass of alcohol closer. his cheeks are an attractive red from the warmth of the place. jongin pauses before he breaks out in loud guffaws. they’re definitely attracting attention now but jongin is having such a good time. 

 

he can’t believe he’s saying that about a conversation involving alex ovechkin’s dick.

 

the two of them continue to go back and forth, laughing like little kids and enjoying each other’s company. the food in front of them are slowly forgotten and the _makgeolli_ is rapidly depleting alongside the nhl’s one-timers.

 

geno malkin (kyungsoo’s—the most confusing part is the fact that jongin has gone _huh_ afterwards), tyler seguin (jongin’s—to which kyungsoo has just raised an eyebrow out of interest and adding how he has a preference towards the dallas captain, jamie benn, himself that has jongin snorting), carey price (the two of them have just broken into low giggling at this), steven stamkos (a moment of silence before heads are shaken and sighs are breathed out in a wistful manner), and p.k. subban (the both of them has picked one-timer; no surprise there) are just some of them.

 

the night slowly ages as the league’s players slowly dissipate between their commentaries and their judgment of whether they’re a pass or a one-timer.

 

kyungsoo bites his lip and makes a low noise on the back of his throat. jongin knows there’s one player they haven’t mentioned yet. _that_ is blasphemous territory.

 

“i think we’ve gone through most of the Cs and the As—” kyungsoo pauses before he lights up. “wait—we missed—how about—hmm… sidney crosby?”

 

“one-timer,” jongin replies quickly. “have you seen his ass?”

 

he looks over his shoulder in case anyone hears. it’s never too late to be cautious. 

 

kyungsoo laughs and nods, answering, “it’s kind of hard not to. but it’s a pass for me.”

 

jongin quirks an eyebrow. “he’s a captain though.”

 

“he’s hot if you’re into that whole good boy thing but he looks—” kyungsoo stops. he seems to jongin like the older male is trying to find his own words. he blushes before continuing, “he looks like he’s too vanilla.”

 

jongin smirks. “and that’s a bad thing?”

 

“of course not!” kyungsoo replies with indignation. he shrinks down his seat and looks up from underneath his lashes in what must be a deliberate and intentional move. “i just like things with— _variety_. life is too short to stick to one ice cream flavor.”

 

jongin would have snorted at that if not for the implication of kyungsoo’s words. one, sid _is_ a creature of habit. two, kyungsoo’s— _adventurous ice cream preferences_.

 

“do you like it rough?” jongin straight up asks. “experimental?”

 

kyungsoo flushes but he nods nonetheless. if there is any question about what kind of date this is, what kind of things it will lead to, it’s completely gone by now.

 

the figure skater breathes out and adds, “i like it most ways, actually.”

 

jongin gulps at that and feels a knot build low in his stomach. he lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, attempting to look cool and devil-may-care. kyungsoo smiles at him—a close mouthed little thing that speaks volumes. it’s loud in the sound of buzzing in jongin’s ears and the jitters building up on the tips of his fingers. 

 

the hockey player leans forward and his fingers reach to graze on the back of kyungsoo’s hand that’s resting on the table. his index finger lightly caresses the skin there before it trails upwards in a ghost of a kiss.

 

“pass or one-timer, kyungsoo,” jongin whispers lowly. it’s only for them to hear. “jongin kim?”

 

“the _captain?_ ” kyungsoo teases. “i guess _king jongin_ is kind of hot.”

 

jongin sniffs at that and raises his one eyebrow. when the word captain slips past kyungsoos’ thick lips, he feels a knot on his stomach slowly form. when his notorious nickname follows right after, the knot tightens. he bumps his foot against kyungsoo’s calf before he runs it up and down in clear invitation.

 

“pass or one-timer, baby,” he drawls out. “you only have to answer one or the other.”

 

kyungsoo gulps and when he replies, soft but sure. jongin smiles.

 

_“one-timer. a lot of them.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin slams the bedroom door shut and then slams kyungsoo against it. he mentally cheers when there’s no sound of protest or shock from anywhere in the room. he sends a thank you to loey—the man hightailing it out of there when jongin shoots him a quick text that’s probably more typos than anything. texting with kyungsoo do on his lap in the back of a cab is hard.

 

the older male groans but jongin eats the sound quickly off of kyungsoo’s lips with his own. he crashes their mouths together with kyungsoo slipping his tongue inside jongin’s. the kiss tastes of alcohol, the _makgeolli_ lingering around the edges with its distinct sweetness.

 

rice wine tastes better on kyungsoo’s mouth, jongin thinks. his hands run over the older man’s sides and jongin slips them underneath the layers of kyungsoo’s winter clothes. kyungsoo’s short fingers are roaming across the expanse of jongin’s abs and he makes a frustrated noise before he separates their lips.

 

“off,” the figure skater pants. he pulls at the jacket hanging loosely over jongin’s broad shoulders and the hockey player smirks, following instructions.

 

he’s not only good at barking orders.

 

jongin does not make a strip tease out of it. he’s half hard inside his pants and all he wants is to get kyungsoo to his bed—or his wall, really. it’s not like he can’t lift the older male and fuck him open from that position.

 

he sheds the layers he’s wearing as he walks backwards, pulling kyungsoo with him. the back of his knees hit the bed and kyungsoo stands in the middle of his splayed thighs as jongin throws the clothes to the floor.

 

“you too, babe,” he says while nodding towards kyungsoo’s fully dressed figure. 

 

the older man nods to himself as a violent blush overtakes his face. jongin notices his fingers trembling as he pulls his clothes over his head but the bite on his lower lip looks like it’s from anticipation rather than nerves.

 

jongin takes his pants off, leaving him in his black boxer briefs. kyungsoo’s eyes flit over him and jongin scoots higher to the bed until his back rests against the headboard. jongin takes in the sight of kyungsoo slowly removing his trousers, gulps and almost salivates the sight of milky skin and thick thighs. kyungsoo has not worn those god forsaken nike leggings on their date but jongin figures the real thing, the naked thing, is infinitely better.

 

“fuck,” jongin sighs out. “you’re so fucking hot, baby.”

 

kyungsoo’s eyes widen before he, surprisingly, giggles. he ducks and shakes his head, something that jongin has noticed the man is wont to do if shy or praised. 

 

“c’mere,” jongin beckons. kyungsoo kneels on the bed before he crawls over jongin’s figure. the hockey player watches as kyungsoo stays low, highlighting his perky ass. he’s wearing baby blue briefs and when he’s close enough, jongin leans forward and reaches to grab his prize.

 

his hand cups kyungsoo’s buttocks securely and he digs his nails into the flesh. kyungsoo throws his head to the side and moans as jongin pulls the older male to him. kyungsoo stumbles onto jongin’s lap and the man clambers over the younger player’s strong thighs, sitting astride. 

 

jongin leans forward and kisses kyungsoo again. he starts it deliberately slow, hands roaming around the male’s naked figure. kyungsoo’s body is so different from his, so different from hockey players. he’s all lithe but thin, muscles built in thin cords. his stomach is toned and hard but the familiar ridges of abs are not there, unlike jongin’s own.

 

kyungsoo’s hands warm up against his tan skin and he wriggles to straddle jongin properly. he grinds their hard on together and jongin might have dug his fingernails deeper. kyungsoo keens and pulls away.

 

jongin watches the man’s eyes, blown wide and glassy. his lips are red and abused. his pale skin demands to be marked and jongin leans down, latching himself on kyungsoo’s neck. the figure skater throws his head back and whimpers when jongin starts nibbling, leaving open mouthed kisses and grazing his teeth against the soft skin.

 

“no—” kyungsoo grips hard on jongin’s hair. “no marks, jongin.”

 

jongin makes a disappointed grunt as he sucks hard on the skin between kyungsoo’s collar bone. “why not?”

 

“my costume,” kyungsoo shallowly replies. 

 

his breathing is ragged and he rolls his hips, trying to gain more friction. jongin holds off a long moan threatening to break free between his lips. his cotton underwear feels simultaneously amazing and torturous over his sensitive dick. 

 

“what about it?” jongin asks. he rolls one of kyungsoo’s nipples in between his index finger and his thumb. the older male throws his head back.

 

“free skate—” kyungsoo moans when jongin pushes him back, mouth on his other nipple. jongin sucks harshly. “fuck—my—costume is cut low.”

 

jongin hums as he continues to suck and bite kyungsoo’s nipple. his other hand playing with the neglected bud. jongin switches from one to the other and kyungsoo releases a drawn out “ _shit, jongin_ , _”_ when he drags the sensitive bud.

 

kyungsoo’s fingers find their way back to jongin’s hair and the man grips tight as jongin lavishes attention to his nipple. he feels the older male grow harder in his underwear and jongin takes his mouth off, peeking downwards to see kyungsoo’s dick pressed in between the band of his briefs. 

 

jongin’s faring no better and his hand creeps behind, over the hem of the briefs and sneaking to trace the cleft of kyungsoo’s ass cheeks. his index finger grazes the puckered hole and—

 

“shit, no.” kyungsoo groans but his words betray his actions, his hips humping down and seeking friction. jongin presses his dry finger against kyungsoo’s entrance, scraping the skin around it. 

 

kyungsoo moans and pulls on jongin’s hair harsh and hard. “no fucking, captain.”

 

jongin pauses and almost growls at the word. 

 

“as in?” he clarifies. he thinks kyungsoo has said this before but his mind is nowhere to be found and his dick is doing a good job of thinking right now.

 

jongin takes his hand off of kyungsoo’s underwear but he swiftly pulls the material down, kneading kyungsoo’s ass. he brings his palm down in a harsh slap and kyungsoo whimpers.

 

“as in no penetration,” kyungsoo replies. his breathing is ragged and jongin slaps his ass again. the ample flesh jiggles and the hockey player grabs both cheeks with each palm, cupping and rolling them.

 

“competition rules,” kyungsoo says. his mouth is on jongin’s collarbone. unlike kyungsoo, jongin does not have to wear anything that will show his skin while on ice. the figure skater knows this too and he gives a sharp bite on the side of jongin’s neck.

 

jongin groans and kyungsoo continues, adding, “you’re not the one who has to do triple axels and quads.” kyungsoo hums and his hand presses on the front of jongin’s underwear, palming his erection over the fabric. “i remember you saying you’re going to get creative, _captain_.”

 

the captain is and kyungsoo’s ass is really giving him ideas. he pushes kyungsoo off, just slightly, before he smirks, asking, “sit on my face, baby.”

 

it really isn’t so much as asks as orders and kyungsoo’s eyes widen before his lips also quirk up. kyungsoo moves off of his lap completely and jongin rifles through his bedside table for the lube that he has to buy himself.

 

“strawberry?” kyungsoo asks with a raised brow.

 

jongin settles on his back. “my favorite.”

 

kyungsoo laughs at him and he slips his legs off of his underwear before he kicks it off to the side. kyungsoo straddles jongin’s chest and jongin reaches to pump his hard dick, fumbling with his balls.

 

“tongue and fingers, okay?” jongin asks just to make sure, uncapping the lube and pouring it on his fingers. it drips down to his skin and on the bed and jongin idly wonders if the cleaning staff is briefed on things like this one. they should be—considering fucking is as much of an olympic tradition as the flame itself. 

 

“tongue and two fingers,” kyungsoo amends. probably erring on the side of cautious and not taking risks. somehow, that’s hotter—the dedication kyungsoo has for his sport. 

 

“that’s more than enough,” jongin replies sleazily. he runs his lubed fingers across kyungsoo’s crack, making sure to wet and press the hole. underneath the pads of jongin’s fingers, it flutters.

 

jongin slips his index finger inside and kyungsoo moans, thighs trembling. jongin gives it a few pumps. kyungsoo’s warm around his finger and jongin holds the man’s hip with his free hand, rubbing circles and tracing the V.

 

“arrogant,” kyungsoo says, snobbish.

 

“confident,” jongin retorts.

 

kyungsoo moans and jongin whispers, “relax,” before slipping one again. he fucks kyungsoo shallowly with his two fingers, the lube warming up and dripping down. jongin can’t wait to bury his face in between kyungsoo’s ass, taste kyungsoo in the most intimate of places. he gives it a few more, careful and slow. if kyungsoo wants to be able to do ten consecutive quads afterwards, he can.

 

jongin takes his fingers out and kyungsoo keens, biting his lip. the skater is quiet but jongin just takes it as a challenge. maybe kyungsoo’s the type who needs to loosen up, just like his asshole. 

 

jongin grips the man’s hips with both hands and he scoots down, kyungsoo fixing himself. he brings kyungsoo down, pushing the man to his mouth. kyungsoo’s thighs shake as he holds himself at a nice height. his arms are stretched towards the headboard. jongin is sure he’s gripping the wood, knuckles white.

 

he licks over kyungsoo’s entrance, up and over the back of his balls. 

 

“fuck,” kyungsoo whines. jongin grips his hips tighter so kyungsoo won’t fall down.

 

jongin licks and laps at the puckered skin experimentally, tasting the strawberry flavored lube and kyungsoo. 

 

“so good,” he praises. “you taste fucking amazing, baby.”

 

kyungsoo attempts to buck his hips down but jongin holds him up, strong and steady. he pushes his tongue into kyungsoo’s entrance, bringing it to a sharp point. he fucks kyungsoo shallowly and the man moans and rolls his hips. he lets go of the headboard and kyungsoo reaches back, blindly pushing jongin’s underwear down.

 

he stops fucking kyungsoo with his tongue because that deserves some compliments.

 

“you’re one damn flexible slut,” jongin growls.

 

kyungsoo has his back almost perpendicular against his torso, balancing on his knees and his shins with jongin’s help. his small hand reaches for jongin’s hard cock, stroking the flesh and spreading pre cum. he thumbs the slit and jongin moans over kyungsoo’s hole, the man keening and almost collapsing.

 

“steady,” jongin murmurs lowly. kyungsoo takes a deep breath and the younger man feels the figure skater’s legs flexing beside him, continuing to pump jongin’s erection. jongin fucks kyungsoo with his tongue before he adds one finger and then two.

 

“shit,” kyungsoo curses. “fuck me, jongin—shit.”

 

jongin continues to fuck the man with his fingers, thrusting faster now and scissoring. he wonders if kyungsoo can come from tongue and fingers alone and he continues to lick and laps, alternating the pressure.

 

“after this,” kyungsoo pants. he digs the pad of his finger against jongin’s slit and jongin moans at the sensation. “i want you to fuck me so good—” kyungsoo flicks his wrist and builds his rhythm as jongin eats him out. the knots coil tighter in his stomach, piling the pressure. “—want you to fuck me open. can you do that, jongin?”

 

jongin nods and hums and he jabs into a bundle that has kyungsoo arching his back. he does it again and again, sliding against the older man’s prostrate. kyungsoo pants over him as he slides his hand up and down jongin’s cock.

 

“after the olympics—” kyungsoo breathes out, harshly. jongin continues to thrust against his prostrate, tongue sliding in and out and circling his own fingers. “i want you to spilt me open with your cock, captain.”

 

that does it for jongin— _captain_.

 

he comes hard and fast, almost blacking out. kyungsoo follows soon after when jongin digs his fingers into that spot, coming with pants and a broken, muffled curse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin knows he’s in a strangely good mood for someone who’s about to face alexander ovechkin, evgeni malkin, and vladimir tarasenko in a full hockey game alongside having to score on last season’s vezina awardee.

 

but when jongin takes the ice and does the drills before the puck drops, his eyes stray towards the athletes’ section and finds a south korean jacket among the sea of others, all wide eyes and pink lips.

 

he skates closer to the board near kyungsoo and the figure skater must have noticed, giving him a raised fist and mouthing _fighting_. 

 

jongin smiles at him and taps the end of his hockey stick against the glass. he skates away and chases around for the rubber, even dangling around JD and earning a loud _fuck you_ for it. jongin dekes and quite possibly annoys another teammate but he scores a top shelf on chanyeol, feeling at home.

 

if captain jongin kim is showing off, no one really has the nerve to call him out on it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin ends up with a bruise on his thigh but it’s nothing a quick ice can’t fix. in ice hockey, the player skates until they’re dead and even then, the coaches will most likely try to put their corpse on for another shift.

 

kyungsoo is horrified to find out that he gives jongin a blow job in a cafe bathroom. on his knees with his red lips around jongin’s thick cock, he looks the prettiest. 

 

jongin’s back is digging through the metal knob of the bathroom. kyungsoo’s thighs are splayed, making them appear thicker. he’s wearing the official team south korea track suit and jongin thinks, hysterical from the way kyungsoo’s swallowing his erection whole, that kyungsoo deserves a gold medal for dick sucking.

 

he fists kyungsoo’s hair with his large hand and he pushes the male down. the figure skater almost chokes on jongin’s cock, tears beading on the corner of his eyes as jongin continues with a litany of _yeahs_ and curses and kyungsoo’s name. 

 

kyungsoo’s hand is holding the base before he pumps jongin’s cock. he bobs his head up and down and sucks the thick head, twisting his hand and stroking the remaining length.

 

jongin comes with a quiet groan and kyungsoo swallows everything. he stands up with a smirk as he hands jongin a tissue. jongin wipes himself down before he tucks his dick inside his pants.

 

“good game, captain,” kyungsoo jokes before he saunters outside—looking pristine and perfect, the very image of innocence. as if he hasn’t just sucked team canada’s captain inside a café’s bathroom in the middle of the day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the captain breezes through the games and when he says breezes, he means he almost suffers death over them. the game against russia is brutal and the one versus finland has practically given him a headache the size of the north american continent. the young players barely out of their mothers’ wombs are the real pesky ones—excited and determined for that one chance at gold.

 

jongin is even more so and his coach has to give him a separate talk post game after he has exchanged blows with an enforcer from sweden. the man has called jongin a slur and he can’t help but lose it when the fucker brings kyungsoo to the on ice trash talk.

 

the media has done their job speculating and their numerous dates all over pyeongchang, while can be passed as friendly, aren’t really considering this is jongin kim involved. 

 

so when the enforcer spits out about fucking _king jongin’s little figure skater open until he can’t walk because the captain is so obviously doing a bad job at it_ , he drops the gloves and sends a solid punch to man’s face. he gets a penalty for it but he figures he’s made up for the blunder when he scores two against tre kronor in a span of three minutes.

 

after the game, in the safety of kyungsoo’s bedroom, jongin kisses kyungsoo harshly while the older male runs his hand through his hair.

 

“you don’t have to defend my honor, silly,” kyungsoo says with a hint of scolding. underneath it though, jongin hears gratefulness and maybe a little bit of pride.

 

“i want to,” jongin answers firmly and that’s that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin’s in the middle of working out when his phone buzzes with a message from kyungsoo. he doesn’t slow down when he picks the device to check the text out.

 

_call me?_

 

the hockey player frowns—kyungsoo should be in the middle of warming up right now. it’s his free skate in maybe an hour or two. jongin, in fact, is finishing the last set so he can grab lunch and head to the figure skating stadium.

 

_nervous?_ he shoots back

 

instantly, there's a reply— _if i say i am will you call me._

 

jongin finishes his run on the treadmill before he hops down. he brings his phone and taps on kyungsoo’s name, hitting facetime for a video call instead.

 

kyungsoo picks up after a moment as jongin settles into one corner of the gym’s locker room. most of his teammates are gone and done with theirs. the only one who’s left behind in the work out room is tazer but that’s because he’s tazer.

 

“hey,” he greets kyungsoo. “you know i’d call you anyway, right?”

 

kyungsoo smiles and jongin can see the way his lips are tight around the edges. kyungsoo looks like he’s sitting down and he picks up something to the side, ripping the package open.

 

“i’m going to put a sheet mask now,” kyungsoo says. “try not to be scared.”

 

he attempts to joke but jongin notices how feeble it is. 

 

“are you getting ready now?”

 

kyungsoo nods as he unfolds the sheet. he places the white thing over his face and smooths it down over the planes and curves. jongin smiles at the cute sight as kyungsoo hums under his breath.

 

“i am,” kyungsoo nods to himself, picking up a hair straightener. he runs it through his hair in light motions. “i have to do my hair and makeup.”

 

jongin sits down on the bench before he slowly drinks his usual nutritionist approved post-work out protein shake. it tastes like cardboard and watered down chocolate. 

 

the silence stretches on until kyungsoo is down with his hair. he takes the mask off and pats his face with his hands before wiping the excess with a tissue. he pins his bangs back and applies some cream on his face.

 

“my skin dries fast when it’s really cold,” the figure skater remarks. jongin does not mind listening to kyungsoo’s chatter but this one is so obviously the product of anxiety. from the beginning, kyungsoo’s shoulders appear tense.

 

he rubs the cream and massages it on his skin. he takes another tube that jongin has no hope of figuring out what for and slathers it over his face as well.

 

after a moment, jongin asks, “you’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

 

kyungsoo pauses in brushing gel over his thick eyebrows before he smiles slightly. “i am.” he shrugs and finishes the other brow, lips twisting before picking his foundation. he squirts some on the back of his hand and kyungsoo picks at it slowly, patting and blending on his face. 

 

he reaches for a sponge to even it out before he adds, “i’m second right now.”

 

jongin quirks his lips. "you are.”

 

“do you think i can do it?” kyungsoo asks, trailing off. the word _gold_ seems like it’s a taboo right now—what with the two of them being so close and yet, so far away from it.

 

“you practiced hard and trained hard.” 

 

jongin knows this because he has seen kyungsoo’s body littered with bruises too, and not from hard fucking. he’s heard kyungsoo hum under his breath the music he’ll use for his free skate. right then, the older male conceals the dark circles under his eyes—most of them born from late nights of extra ice time or the times when jongin has accompanied kyungsoo to one of the makeshift dance studios.

 

“sometimes—” he smiles at the figure skater, knowing that it's something the other athlete will understand. “you have to just skate and trust the ice.”

 

kyungsoo pauses at that, dabbing powder all over. there’s a second or two of silence and no reaction before the older male bursts into giggles.

 

“that sounds weird,” he retorts. “but also right.”

 

jongin grins back as kyungsoo continues to finish his makeup. “if you win, i’ll let you meet henrik lundqvist.”

 

the figure skater snorts. he's dabbing color on one of his eyelids. “and you? i assume you want something in return?”

 

jongin hums. there _is_ something.

 

“if i win,” he starts before pausing. he thinks maybe what he is asking for is going to be an affront to canada or something but really—

 

“if i win, you have to wear my jersey while i fuck you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin won’t deny that he feels nervous, sitting on the stands and waiting for his figure skater to come on ice. it’s almost kyungsoo’s turn and jongin is hanging on the edge of his seat. the japanese skater comes first—the one that kyungsoo’s fighting tooth and nail with for the gold medal. he’s dressed in flaming red and he blazes across the ice. it feels a little bit like watching a hockey game, what with the brutal pace of the japanese skater. 

 

he sets a world record and jongin’s stomach plummets to the ground.

 

kyungsoo’s next and _fuck_ , jongin curses under his breath. when he sees kyungsoo in all his glory, his stomach ties in twists and knots from how beautiful the older male is. the two of them has ended the call when kyungsoo has finished his makeup but from here, from the large screen displaying kyungsoo’s face in close up—nothing really can ever compare.

 

there are tiny crystals glued to his face. around his eyes and on his cheekbones—it makes him look like he’s something out of this world. his costume consists of the usual black pants but his white top itself deserves a sparkling medal. if kyungsoo looks like a temptress before, this one has him appearing positively angelic.

 

the white fabric is tight on his torso and lined with silver and crystals. jongin finally realizes why kyungsoo wants no hickeys left on his person. the V of the front dips down maybe a few inches above his belly button. the sleeves are made with chiffon, flow-y and wing-like. 

 

jongin would have handed him a gold medal right then and there—a thousand of them even.

 

when the music plays and kyungsoo’s heart dances on the ice, jongin wipes the moisture from his eyes. it feels like eternity and he has gripped his seat every time kyungsoo does a jump—quadruple toe, triple axel, triple flip, triple loop. an ina bauer. a donut spin.

 

it feels like eternity.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo shatters the world record.

 

jongin screams at the top of his lungs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin rushes and barrels into kyungsoo’s figure, enveloping the older man in a big hug and almost slamming the two of them into a wall.

 

he peppers kyungsoo’s face with chaste kisses while the older man giggles to himself. the gold medal hangs between the two of them and jongin crashes their lips together, breaths mingling and sharing heat from the pads of their fingers.

 

“congratulations,” jongin sighs against kyungsoo’s mouth. “i’m so proud of you, kyungsoo.”

 

kyungsoo sniffs and his eyes are teary. his nose is a little red too.

 

“i’m so happy,” the figure skater says. “my last olympics and i—”

 

he trails off as tears continue to overflow. jongin might not understand the prospect of retiring early but kyungsoo has announced that this will be his last competition. he’s twenty-five years old and while it’s young still, in figure skating, that is practically ancient.

 

jongin hushes kyungsoo and kisses the tip of his nose. idly, he wonders what he is doing. he’s never done this for any of his one-night stands and he knows for a fact that _this—_ whatever this is—is more than just a hook up. 

 

“you did so well,” jongin murmurs against kyungsoo’s lips. “you made everybody proud.” he tucks kyungsoo’s hair behind his right ear and adds, “gold medal, kyungsoo.”

 

kyungsoo sniffles and wipes his snot against jongin’s chest. jongin just laughs and strokes kyungsoo’s back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin only misses one of kyungsoo’s performance. the exhibition gala is on the morning of the gold medal game and jongin thinks he won’t be able to concentrate anyway, thinking of the what ifs and stressing over the game with USA in a few hours.

 

kyungsoo understands him completely and jongin figures it’s still a win for him when he gets a selfie right before the exhibition skate. the figure skater is dressed in a simple black turtleneck but his face is painted with fake whiskers and a fake kitten nose. there are fake freckles drawn over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. on his head is a pair of black kitten ears that has jongin smiling to himself, much to the worry of the rest of his teammates.

 

the hours pass quickly, running alongside team lunch, drills, coaches ranting, and the third check to their equipment. before long, jongin’s dressed up in his pads and jersey. his helmet strapped to his chin and his hockey stick taped just the way he likes it.

 

he comes out to the ice last, stepping with his left skate first. everything bleeds into method and superstition. they do their warm ups first and jongin tries not to sneak a glance at the other side of the rink. jongin is playing first line center and he taps the puck softly towards the goal post. chanyeol stops it immediately and without any difficulty; the goalie even shooting him a few taunts. jongin bites down on his mouth guard to curb the urge to snap back as he skates backwards, ducking down to avoid JD stick-handling like it’s no one’s business.

 

by the boards, almost subconsciously, jongin tries to find that familiar south korean track suit. the stadium is packed to the brim with people buzzing in excitement and nerves, eager to watch the world’s best of the best play for the gold.

 

he finds kyungsoo three rows behind the glass, smiling widely and carrying a cheering placard. there’s a CANADA FOR GOLD written on it in bold letters with a marker and both the As on canada are replaced with a maple leaf in red. the O in gold is drawn to look like a gold medal.

 

he taps the glass in acknowledgement and kyungsoo raises the banner higher, obviously watching jongin closely. he waves it around, left to right, and the captain can’t help but think the older male is cute like that—all bundled up and cheering for him.

 

jongin feels like he has won the olympics and the cup and the worlds just with the brightness of kyungsoo’s smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

it goes into OT.

 

jongin downs his gatorade and squeezes the plastic with vengeance. the break is almost over and he’s standing by the tunnel, ready to skate what is going to be the longest shift of his life. JD gives him a solid clap on his right shoulder and jongin taps the end of his hockey stick against his teammate’s helmet.

 

“triple gold club, jongin,” JD says. 

 

the moment they’re ushered into the rink, jongin remembers his own words—to skate and trust the ice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

it’s all a blur. jongin is reduced into not thinking at all. half-way through the overtime period, he sees the black disk and hooks the puck with his stick. he dekes around one of the american players and when jongin catches the face, he thinks wryly—he’s the best 88 in the league.

 

he bangs that fucking puck home and then—

 

chaos.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

when the reporter calls him a triple gold club captain, jongin reels at the surreality of everything. right at that moment, he remembers that he has won himself an olympic gold, a stanley cup, and a world championship.

 

when the reporter asks what he’s going to do afterwards, jongin, sweaty with his hair mussed and a gold medal dangling around his neck, replies with a smirk, “hopefully someone.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

jongin manages to ditch the guys before the closing ceremony. he’s in need of a good shower and he wants to change before the team hits the clubs to celebrate. their coach already has one booked, overflowing with the alcohol they haven’t consumed in the locker room. there’s a pleasant buzz in jongin’s head that’s not from the champagne and the champagne showers. 

 

he can’t wait to tell kyungsoo. jongin does not have the time to look around for him especially when he’s being ushered in front of reporters from various parts of the world. the soreness of his body has yet to kick in and jongin absentmindedly fiddles with the gold medal resting below his breast.

 

he’s almost to his door when he notices a lone figure standing by the hallways. he squints—no one should be here right now considering the floor is all from the hockey team—before he gasps, pleasantly surprised.

 

“kyungsoo!” he calls out. the man turns around and jongin cannot help the joy brimming from himself, spilling over the entire building and laid bare for kyungsoo to see.

 

he runs over and slams his body against the smaller male. kyungsoo almost loses his balance but jongin is quick to catch him by the waist before he hoists him up in the air. kyungsoo squeaks as he wraps both his legs around jongin’s hips and the captain swings them both as kyungsoo threads his fingers and grabs at jongin’s hair.

 

“triple gold club captain, baby!” he screams, spinning them around.

 

kyungsoo yelps and hits him on his bicep. “put me down!”

 

“no!” jongin protests. “i’m so happy!”

 

kyungsoo laughs with him right then and the figure skater brings his forehead down, leaning it against jongin’s own. their lips are close but not close enough.

 

“congratulations, jongin,” the older man sweetly says. the smile on his face is genuine, his eyes shining brightly and happily. jongin thinks kyungsoo looks like he’s the one who has won the gold medal with his expression. kyungsoo closes the distance and pecks him on the lips.

 

“now,” he drawls out, tugging at jongin’s hair. “put me down so you can get your prize.” this time, the kiss he places on jongin’s mouth is hot and quick. “i promise i’m as good as that gold medal.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

it feels like deja vu when jongin settles back against the headboard of his bed. this time, the room is empty aside from himself, the gold medal on his bedside table, and the man inside the bathroom of his room.

 

jongin lazily strokes his cock as he roots around for the condoms that the olympics committee has given the athletes. thirty-seven minus one is thirty-six and if jongin has his way, kyungsoo and he can start going through the stash starting tonight. maybe they can even skip the closing ceremony.

 

the door to the bathroom opens and kyungsoo stands walks towards the bed with light steps as if he isn’t wearing one of jongin’s spare olympic jerseys. the bright red looks beautiful flushed against kyungsoo’s pale skin and the hem hits almost to his knees. the jersey is big even on jongin; it has to be to accommodate the shoulder pads. on kyungsoo, it looks almost comical—except it isn’t.

 

the sight has jongin’s dick twitching in extreme interest and he holds the base tightly around the circle of his fingers, just in case jongin comes from the image presented in front of him.

 

“you look good wearing just that,” he comments. he sounds idle but the underlying growl and the raspiness of his voice mean anything but that. jongin nods at kyungsoo, playing with his own erection. “turn around, baby. show your captain the number on your back.”

 

kyungsoo bites his lower lip before he slowly turns around. jongin groans at the sight—the stark _kim 88_ on kyungsoo’s narrow back sends shivers down his spine, tingling his nerves up to the tips of his toes.

 

“shit, kyungsoo,” jongin pumps at his dick. kyungsoo turns around and he notices the slight tent kyungsoo’s own half mast dick is probably imprinting against the fabric. “i'm going to fuck you all night while you wear my name on your back.” 

 

he beckons kyungsoo to come closer and the older man does so. jongin pulls him so he’s sitting between jongin’s legs. kyungsoo’s hand is resting against his abs and jongin slips his fingers inside kyungsoo’s mouth.

 

“suck,” he orders. kyungsoo obediently follows and he swirls his tongue around jongin’s index and middle finger. jongin groans at the heat and the way kyungsoo is looking at him, moaning around his fingers.

 

he pulls the digits out he creeps his hand beneath the fabric of the jersey. he lathers the skin with kyungsoo’s own spit and his eyes widen when he finds kyungsoo’s hole slick and loose.

 

“did you prep yourself before?” jongin asks hoarsely.

 

kyungsoo nods. “yes, i did. before your game, i cleaned and prepped.” kyungsoo kisses him hotly and there’s a string of spit between their mouths when they separate. “i was sitting on the stands and watching you play a game after i fucked myself with my fingers wishing it’s your cock ripping me open.”

 

jongin moans at kyungsoo’s words. how can one sound so polite and demure with filth coming out of their mouths.

 

“ _shit,_ ” is only what jongin can manage as a reply. he pauses and pants against kyungsoo’s mouth, breathing heatedly. “were you hard for me, baby? were you hoping i could get gold so i can fuck you like a champion?”

 

“god, yes,” kyungsoo throws his head back. 

 

jongin slips both of his fingers inside the tight heat with no difficulty. he slicks kyungsoo’s entrance with lube and pumps his fingers in and out. he avoids hitting kyungsoo’s prostrate, keeping the thrusts into shallow movements and scissoring his fingers inside.

 

“when you scored that overtime goal i had to clench my thighs together.” kyungsoo bucks his hips down, fucking himself on jongin’s fingers. “i had to stop myself from shoving my fingers in my mouth and in my ass— _fuck—_ ”

 

he breaks off into a high pitched keen when jongin grazes the senstive bundle of nerves.

 

“so that’s what you want?” jongin asks. he lets another finger inside kyungsoo and the man sobs a _yes, please_.

 

“say it like you mean it, baby.” jongin teases. his teeth bites down harshly on kyungsoo’s neck.

 

“please fuck me until i forget my name, captain,” kyungsoo begs.

 

jongin growls at that and he pushes kyungsoo off of him.

 

“on your knees, kyungsoo,” he orders. “keep it low.”

 

kyungsoo quickly obeys and jongin kneels behind the man, dick hard at the image of kyungsoo all ready for his to take with his name and number on his back. he slides his dick over kyungsoo’s crack and the man moans loudly, back arching and ass being displayed.

 

jongin slaps kyungsoo’s right cheek with his palm before he hitches the hem of his jersey. kyungsoo’s bucks his hips up, as if begging for more. jongin brings his palm again and this time, the sound of skin slapping against skin is louder without the buffer of the fabric.

 

“one more?” jongin asks. 

 

“yes, captain,” kyungsoo says lowly. “one more. two. please. anything.”

 

jongin smirks as he smears his pre cum on kyungsoo’s pale skin. “how many points did i tally this olympics, kyungsoo?”

 

kyungsoo pauses and jongin presses down on the man’s nape. the older man looks behind, lips bitten and red, offering a tentative, “ten?”

 

jongin brings down his palm and kyungsoo groans. the captain kneads the flesh, correcting, “eleven, baby.”

 

kyungsoo nods, almost frantic with how eager he is. “one spank for every point, okay? say stop when you want me to stop.”

 

the figure skater hums and jongin brings down to hits on his ass in quick succession. kyungsoo howls a high “fuck shit, jongin,” and jongin brings his hand down again, the hardest of them all.

 

he pauses and drinks in the sight of kyungsoo’s skin bathed in red. he wonders if his hand will leave an imprint. jongin spanks him twice more and pauses again half way through to place tender kisses on the skin.

 

“more?”

 

kyungsoo nods and jongin tuts. 

 

“use your words, kyungsoo.”

 

“yes, more.” kyungsoo hurriedly rushes out.

 

jongin spaks kyungsoo three more times without rhythm and his free hand crawls to kyungsoo’s front, gripping the other man’s dick in his hand. he palms it and thumbs the slit down, stroking lightly and tracing the protruding vein on the underside.

 

he spanks kyungsoo twice out of the blue and his cock twitches and jerks. jongin slaps his ass once again and the pinking skin jiggles with the movement. 

 

“that’s eleven, baby,” he says. jongin massages the abused flesh, cupping kyungsoo’s ass in one of his hands and grazing the pad of his finger over the man’s puckered hole.

 

jongin slips his dick on the cleft of kyungsoo’s cheeks and he squeezes the man’s ass tight around his erection. he fucks into the crease shallowly and kyungsoo whines and keens, begging for him.

 

kyungsoo looks behind him again. his lips are wet with spit and his cheeks a fiery shade of red. with a low growl, he says, “fuck me like you mean it, captain.”

 

jongin growls back and he lets go of kyungsoo’s ass, reaching for one of the condoms. jongin rips the packet open and he slides it over his cock. he deliberately scrapes the skin with his nails, finding pleasure in the oversensitivity of the motion. jongin feels like he’s been hard and aching for kyungsoo the entire time. 

 

he lines his dick against the man’s hole. the thick head presses on the entrance and without warning, jongin slides his cock into the tight wet heat. he groans as he bottoms out and kyungsoo moans, taking him so well. jongin grips the man’s hips tightly as he pounds the figure skater down. he hitches kyungsoo higher and the older man grapples for the sheets, holding it tight between his fingers.

 

jongin digs his nails on kyungsoo’s skin as he thrusts hard and quick. he’s manhandlng kyungsoo on his dick, the man bouncing on his cock in a fast rhythm.

 

“faster, jongin” kyungsoo moans. “fuck— _captain—_ ”

 

jongin growls and kyungsoo almost screams when jongin hits his prostrate head on. the slide against the nerves sends both of them tingling and kyungsoo lets out a string of _ah, ah, ah_ interspersed with _jongin_ and _captain_ and his own begging.

 

when the taller male feels the telltale tightening on the pit of his stomach, he grabs kyungsoo’s dick with one of his hands and starts stroking in time with his thrusts. kyungsoo can only make helpless sounds as jongin runs his index finger over the sensitive slit of his dick. jongin loses his pace and starts thrusting erratically, chasing his release.

 

“come for me, jongin,” kyungsoo moans. “come inside me, captain. mark me as yours—fuck—i want to come out of here with everyone— _ah shit—_ knowing that i’m yours.”

 

jongin as kyungsoo continues his broken litany and he presses hard on kyungsoo’s slit, twists his wrist that has the man spilling rapidly and out of the blue. jongin continues to fuck into kyungsoo, spilling inside the condom. his dick is softening inside the tight hole and jongin pushes himself deeper inside the older man.

 

kyungsoo pants and slumps down as jongin pulls himself off of the figure skater. he holds the end of the condom tightly before he carefully slips and ties it shut. he throws it into the waste bin strategically positioned underneath the bedside table as jongin struggles to catch his breath.

 

the smaller man turns around before he crawls on top of jongin. the jersey he’s wearing is a mess of sweat and cum. canada would be appalled by jongin’s choices but canada has not seen the man jongin has fucked, blissed out and kissing him slowly.

 

jongin figures canada would understand if they saw how beautiful kyungsoo was.

 

kyungsoo holds jongin’s face between his hands and he grins their sensitive members against each other and jongin thanks god and double shifting for his stamina. he can already feel himself growing hard and interested.

 

jongin reaches over for the gold medal on top of his bedside table and he manages to grip the ribbon. he snakes his hand between both of their bodies, separating his and kyungsoo’s mouths.

 

he places the medal around kyungsoo’s neck, smirking as licks kyungsoo’s bottom lip. “that’s a gold medal performance, baby.”

 

kyungsoo laughs at him before he kisses jongin softly on the mouth. jongin holds kyungsoo’s hip with one hand as the man's mouth trails downwards.

 

“kyungsoo?” jongin calls. 

 

“yeah?” kyungsoo nips at the juncture of jongin’s ear and his jawline.

 

“will you go on a date with me?" jongin hesitantly asks. 

 

“what do you mean?”

 

“i—” he pauses, unsure of how to phrase his next statement. he takes a deep breath and kyungsoo stops what he’s doing to look at jongin in the eye. jongin meets his stare head on as he says, “i really, _really_ like you so i’m hoping we can go out even after this.”

 

kyungsoo’s face erupts into a shade of red and the color goes down to his chest and even until the tips of his ears. it’s endearing and kyungsoo squeaks before he hides his face against jongin’s neck.

 

jongin waits for the reply before he feels the older male shyly nod. he drops a kiss on kyungsoo’s head and then his temple before he does it again.

 

“i mean,” kyungsoo murmurs shyly over jongin’s warm skin. “you’re not henrik lundqvist but i guess you’ll do.”

 

jongin’s only response is to laugh helplessly.

**Author's Note:**

> **GLOSSARY**
> 
>  
> 
> nhl - national hockey league  
> hat-trick - a player scores thrice in one game WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE  
> one-timer - when you shoot the puck from a pass without playing or controlling it  
> triple gold club - winning the olympics gold, the worlds gold, and the stanley cup  
> habs - also, montreal canadiens  
> alexander ovechkin - missing one tooth, LOML  
> HENRIK LUNDQVIST - please google him lmao no regrets
> 
> **
> 
> so yeah i really changed hockey history what u gonna do about that HUH
> 
> all the NHL players mentioned are real players you can look them up and prepare to be surprised! hopefully some people get the inside jokes
> 
> PLEASE PRAISE ME AND MY GENIUS TITLE "HAT-TRICK" AND THE "PASS OR ONE-TIMER"


End file.
